


Three Times the Psychic Paper Didn't Work

by moon_custafer



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_custafer/pseuds/moon_custafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says. May add more scenes as I think of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times the Psychic Paper Didn't Work

1\. “ ‘Ere, I don’t care if that _is_ the seal of the Knights of the Grand Order o’ Oberon. We’re full right up with people on ‘oly missions just now. Move along.”

“I think you find if you read the addendum --”

“Well I _can’t_ read, can I? --that’s the shame o’ it. Now move along, afore you get this blaster up yer nose!”

****

2\. The older nun was not the abbess, but she carried herself with a graceful authority that was separate from, though no doubt helped by, the aqualine beauty of her features.

“You may return to your meditations, _Sor_ ,” she said, with a not unkindly glint in her eye that made the younger nun blush and glance at the book on her lectory. The Doctor took in the title: _La hermosura de Angélica_. Ah. Fanfiction.

“I will show the ambassador and his retinue,” the other nun continued, “to chambers more suited their dignity.” She led them down stairs and halls to a room that was indeed quite ornate, and more importantly in the climate of New Spain, shuttered and cool; she closed the door, turned to the Doctor and his companions and said:

“Now then, suppose you tell me who you really are.” The nun raised her hand before anyone could protest; the TARDIS translation circuits, from a distance several miles off were rendering her Spanish as crisply-accented English that somehow reminded the doctor of Liz Shaw’s voice, so long buried in memory: “This letter says you are here on business from the King; but unless court fashions have undergone a great deal of change since our current governor left Spain, _and_ unless the order to wear mourning for the late Queen Consort has suddenly been lifted, _you_ are not the delegation referred to. Where are you really from?”

****

3\. The detective ran his tendrils over the psychic paper, then raised his nose towards the Doctor. If he had had eyes, they would have been narrowed suspiciously.

“The texture is New New Scotland Yard, _Inspector_ ,” he said, “and the stamp tastes real. But there’s one problem.” He drew an identical paper from an unseen pocket: “ _I’m_ Inspector Gseithh.”


End file.
